John Greenleaf Whittier Quotes
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A manly form at her side she saw, And joy was duty and love was law. Then she took up her burden of life again, Saying only, 'It might have been'.
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Each crisis brings its word and deed.
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We seemed to see our flag unfurled,Our champion waiting in his placeFor the last battle of the world,The Armageddon of the race.
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So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawnWhich once he wore;The glory from his gray hairs goneFor evermore!
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To eat the lotus of the NileAnd drink the poppies of Cathay.
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Press bravely onward! - not in vain Your generous trust in human kind; The good which bloodshed could not gain Your peaceful zeal shall find.
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The Night is Mother of the Day,The Winter of the Spring,And ever upon old DecayThe greenest mosses cling.
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Perish with him the folly that seeks through evil good.
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Alas for maiden, alas for Judge, For rich repiner and household drudge! God pity them both! and pity us all, Who vainly the dreams of youth recall; For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: 'It might have been!'
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The harp at Nature's advent strungHas never ceased to play;The song the stars of morning sungHas never died away.
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Strike! Thou the Master, we Thy keys,The anthem of the destinies!The minor of Thy loftier strain,Our hearts shall breathe the old refrain -'Thy will be done!'
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Maud Muller, on a summer's day, Raked the meadows sweet with hay. Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health.
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Low stir of leaves and dip of oarsAnd lapsing waves on quiet shores.
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What is good looking, as Horace Smith remarks, but looking good? Be good, be womanly, be gentle,-generous in your sympathies, heedful of the well-being of all around you; and, my word for it, you will not lack kind words of admiration.
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Beauty seen is never lost.
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We lack but open eye and earTo find the Orient's marvels here;The still small voice in autumn's hush,Yon maple wood the burning bush.
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Yet sometimes glimpses on my sight,Through present wrong the eternal right;And, step by step, since time began,I see the steady gain of man;
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Better heresy of doctrine than heresy of heart.
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All hearts confess the saints elect,Who, twain in faith, in love agree,And melt not in an acid sectThe Christian pearl of charity!
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Weary lawyers with endless tongues.
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Nature speaks in symbols and in signs.
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The Beauty which old Greece or RomeSung, painted, wrought, lies close at home.
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As yonder tower outstretches to the earthThe dark triangle of its shade aloneWhen the clear day is shining on its top;So, darkness in the pathway of man's lifeIs but the shadow of God's providence,By the great Sun of wisdom cast thereon;And what is dark below is light in heaven.
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I know not where His islands liftTheir fronded palms in air;I only know I cannot driftBeyond His love and care.